


Five times Geralt had to keep Jaskier quiet (and one time he encouraged him not to be)

by SpaceBat (kuraikon)



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: 5 +1, 5 Times, Feral Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut, Jaskier | Dandelion Being a Feral Bastard, M/M, Making Up, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Soft Jaskier | Dandelion, Staying Quiet, The other tagged characters don’t really play a part tbh, The rating is for number 4, everything else is tame, five times fic, staying quiet during sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:27:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24719008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuraikon/pseuds/SpaceBat
Summary: Geralt couldn’t bite back his sigh. “You were composing aloud as you tried to sneak, Jaskier.”A 5+1 format based on Jaskier not being able to shut up when needed, Geralt shutting him up and then asking him not to.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 9
Kudos: 385





	Five times Geralt had to keep Jaskier quiet (and one time he encouraged him not to be)

1

“Who the fuck leaves a grave hag unchecked till there’s only two corpses left in the ground?” Jaskier muttered to himself, climbing over the gate behind the cemetery and letting out an ‘oof!’ as he jumped down to the ground, managing to stay on his feet just barely. Looking around and seeing no one to witness his, in his opinion, impressive feat of agility, Jaskier adjusted his lute strap and crouched down into the overgrown grass of the graveyard, making his way towards the rather derelict looking church in the centre of the grounds. Geralt may have told him to sit this one out but Jaskier hadn’t seen a grave hag before and he was being very careful, not taking the front gate to the graveyard and making sure his silver dagger was strapped tight to his thigh. As he moved, he hummed quietly.

“ _‘Onto ransacked graves the full moon shone,  
their lost inhabitants long and gone,   
the looter rummages and hunts till dawn,   
unaware she is followed by the wolf’s medallion.’_   
Ohh, that last line is horrid.” And it was actually almost a new moon but that was neither here nor there. “Still, the rest is workable.  
‘ _Did run amuck this ravenous beast, jaws so wide,  
rightly feared the townsfolk that they might be next in line,   
but came forth a hero, with his swords drawn in to danger he did stride,  
into the greedy mouth of horrors, that fearless Witcher of mine.’_  
What am I going to rhyme with hag anyway? Are grave and brave too easy? Fuck!” Jaskier hissed through his teeth as he stumbled over catching his foot on what turned out to be a broken tombstone and landing on his knees. “Oh for fuck- mmff!!”

A gloved hand safely over Jaskier’s mouth, Geralt crowded in close from behind the bard. “I thought I told you to stay at the inn.” The Witcher rumbled into Jaskier’s ear, rolling his eyes when he felt the man shiver against him. “Didn’t I say that she probably hasn’t been eating well and would be dangerous?” Jaskier shrugged and Geralt huffed in annoyance. “If I let go will you be quiet? I could hear you before you reached the fucking fence.” Jaskier nodded and so Geralt slowly removed his hand, ready to slap it back over the bards mouth if he yelped at Geralt for the manhandling. Instead Jaskier pouted at him as the Witcher stood up , refusing the take the hand offered to help him up and dusting off his knees when he found his feet. 

“I came over the fence rather than the front gates at least.” Jaskier whispered at him.

“Praise chaos for small miracles.”

“Aren’t you proud?”

Geralt couldn’t bite back his sigh. “You were composing aloud as you tried to sneak, Jaskier.” When the bard hummed unapologetically, Geralt nudged him. “Witcher of mine, huh?”

His Witcher vision wasn’t exactly needed to see the blush crossing Jaskier’s nose and cheeks. “Well, you introduce me as your bard all the time, I don’t see why I can’t- Geralt!”

The last word was almost a shriek as Jaskier caught site of the hag coming up behind Geralt’s shoulder, but it was clear Geralt had sensed her a second or so before, as his silver sword was already coming up as he spun around and Aard already half signed. Jaskier dove backwards, keeping the hag and the Witcher in his line of sight as best as possible as he removed himself from the creatures immediate reach to watch Geralt work.

-

2

“Shut up.”

Jaskier’s mouth snapped close with a click. He frowned at Geralt for interrupting but obeyed, watching Geralt til this head as he listened carefully into the, as far as Jaskier could tell, silent night, the crackling of fire the only noise that the bard could pick up. Suddenly, Geralt was standing and turning, sword appearing from nowhere and swinging into nothingness. 

A loud clash of steel of steel made Jaskier jump to his feet, a man now standing behind the log Geralt had been sitting on, his sword raised to catch Geralt’s blow. Two others stepped out to the shadows, a man and a woman, both armed to the teeth with a familiar pair of swords on their backs. Geralt lowered his sword but remained tense. “Evening cats, you couldn’t have been a bit less suspicious with your arrival?”

The man that had taken Geralt’s blow laughed and sheathed his sword. “Now where would the fun in that be?” He grinned wide, flashing his fangs. Jaskier eyed the man with interest, gaze flicking down to the Witcher medallion around his neck. 

The woman followed his line of sight and tilted her head when she smelled no fear come from Jaskier, she stepped forwards but Geralt moved to block Jaskier partly from view. With raised eyebrows the woman shrugged. 

“May we sit?” She asked, and Geralt frowned. 

“Where’s your caravan? All alright?”

The man closest waved a hand. “Fine, fine, we left a town not long ago and so trailing behind to check for followers.”

“Surely people know better than to mess with the School of Cat, of all the schools.”

All three brightened at what they deemed to be praise. Finally, the third man spoke, lifting a set of hares. 

“We’ll share our meat if you have any drink to return the favour.”

Jaskier’s stomach growled loud in the clearing, bringing all attention to himself. 

“My apologies.”

The first man darted to him, ducking under Geralt’s half-hearted attempt to stop him. “You just be Jaskier, the bard.” He motioned to the man and woman in turn. “This is Joel and Dragonfly, and I am Aiden, School of Cat, at your service.”

Jaskier smiled brightly. “I’m honoured you’ve already heard of me. Aiden.... Lambert’s Aiden?”

“Jask.” Geralt groaned, rubbing his head but Aiden laughed and the two other Cats moved into the camp to prepare the hares, unbothered. “Filter yourself for once?”

“I shan’t.”

After their dinner of hares and bread and at least half of the wine Jaskier had been smuggling on Roach, Geralt had relaxed enough to make small talk with Dragonfly while Joel scouted around and Aiden and Jaskier chattered at a fast rate next to him. At Jaskier asking about mutations though, Geralt tensed and snapped his head to look at the bard. 

“...must be differences and I’m just curious, ya know, because Geralt’s dick does this thing-“

The palm slapping over his mouth was maybe a bit hard but really, for fucks sake. 

“You’ll have to excuse my bard, Aiden, he doesn’t really get that Schools don’t share mutation details.”

Aiden was cackling though, head thrown back and unable to respond. Dragonfly snorted loudly.

“Was he seriously about to ask if Aiden’s dick has barb like real cats?”

Wheezing, Aiden waved a hand to land on Jaskier’s shoulder and pat it. “You’re fucking hilarious. You wanna hang out with the Cats sometime and play songs for us, you go right ahead. Fucking hell, my ribs actually hurt.”

-

3

“Witcher!”

Geralt stopped and winced, he could hear the hatred in the voice as it called across the towns square as he attempted to lead Roach through the town. Jaskier stopped mid sentence to frown any turn around but whether he also picked up on the disrespect in the voice or was just upset at being interrupted, Geralt wasn’t sure. Patting Roach‘s neck to have her stay still, Geralt turned to face the five men that were striding towards them, the townspeople skirting away to the edges of the square in worry. Jaskier had none of their sense, as he was already narrowing his eyes at the guards, hands on hips and taking no notice of the firm hand Geralt placed briefly to his back which worked when he was trying to calm a spooked Roach. 

“You need something from me?” Geralt asked once the armoured men had come to a stop in front of them. 

The man in the middle, with a double gold stripe stitched under his town insignia labelling him as above his peers, sneered at him. “Only for you to move on. We’re simply checking you’re not stopping where you’re not wanted.”

Geralt felt the sharp intake of air through Jaskier’s nose but before the man could open his mouth, Geralt nudged him with his elbow. “Just passing though; we’ve no business here.”

With his men behind him, the guard pushed again. “I should think not, the good people here have no interest in accommodating your kind.” 

From what Geralt had seen of the town, the so called good people were probably in need of help that was really none of Geralt’s business; he what quickly clocked on to the state of the towns houses and people, while the manor stood gleaming to house the Viceroy. The people smelt of fear and discontent and Geralt suspected that the guards paid the people just as much respect as they were treating him. He could almost hear the growl that Jaskier was building in his chest, and again knocked him with his elbow to keep the man quiet for once. 

“You don’t have to worry, we need no accommodating.”

The man smiled, a nasty pull of his lips. He placed a hand onto his sword hilt at his waist and, in unison behind him, his entourage did the same. Jaskier tensed next to him but Geralt did nothing. “Perhaps we should walk you to the gates.”

“How kind.” Geralt said slowly. “We were hoping to refill our bags at the market first.”

With a scoff, the man waved his free hand. “We’d rather you didn’t dirty our pockets with your murder coin, mutant.” 

Jaskier swayed to the side to miss Geralt’s elbow as the Witcher attempted to stay his mouth a third time. “Oh I’m sure the market sellers much prefer the coin from you, which is taken from their very pockets when your good lord taxes them, no doubt too high, and pays your wage.” He hissed and Geralt sighed. 

“Jaskier-“

“Mind your mouth!” The man barked, sending a glare to Geralt. “You should keep your bitch muzzled, freak.”

The bard visibly bristled. “Don’t talk to him like that, he’s got more honour and respect for people than you probably have hair on your chest!”

Geralt saw the man clenching his teeth and groaned. “Jask, please-“

A guard from right took a half step forwards. “You’ve no right to disrespect the Captain so, kneel down and beg his forgiveness before we do it for you.”

Geralt grumbled low in his chest at the threat. The first man, the Captain, laughed. “He’s probably well used to being on his knees in the dirt.” He leered at Jaskier thoughtfully and stepped closer. “That’s an idea...”

Before Geralt could act, Jaskier was also moving. “I’d rather be on my knees for him than bending over for your towns Lord as you obviously do.” A knee came up as Jaskier got close enough to the man, slamming into the guards crotch and rewarding Jaskier with a painful cry from the man.

“You son of-“

Two guards jumped forwards and Jaskier took half a step back. “Don’t think I won’t separate your balls from your- hey!”

Taking control of the situation the only way he knew how (by which, he means removing his feral bard) Geralt grabbed Jaskier by his bag strap while leaping onto Roach. Jaskier wasn’t quite on in front of him when Geralt kicked Roach to start racing away but with the Witcher holding him, he was able to scramble into the seat. 

“Stop!” The guards yelled after them. “Hey! Stop!”

“I wasn’t done with them!” Jaskier complained, squirming and pouting at Geralt as they rode to and through the gates.

-

4

Jaskier moaned loudly into the pillow as Geralt sunk his cock into the bard, the slide smooth and slick from the indulgent amount of time they had spent opening Jaskier up and kissing. Geralt hushed him gently, pressing his front to Jaskier’s back to pin his weight to the other man, kissing his shoulder and neck and he held still. 

“Oh Geralt, move. Please move!”

Humming, Geralt sucked a mark to Jaskier’s neck, nice and high where Geralt would be able to see it for days peeking above Jaskier’s collars. “Can you be quiet? We can’t get denied a second night _again_ because you can’t keep your voice down.”

Squirming underneath the comfortable heavy weight of Geralt, Jaskier whined and tried to arch his hips back into his Witcher. Geralt hissed when the softness around his cock tightened deliciously as Jaskier wiggled underneath him. 

“I’ll try.” Jaskier gasped out, lifting his head fluttering his eyes closed when one of Geralt’s hands gripped his hip tight enough to bruise. “Geralt, _please!_ ”

“Shhhh.” Geralt’s other hand slipped up to press his fingers to Jaskier’s mouth. His hips hitched as the bard opened his lips to invite three fingers in, a wet tongue curling around them as Jaskier sighed happily.

Geralt started with long deep rolls of his hips but allowed the speed to build when Jaskier’s moans came out muffled. The bed creaked ominously and above that were the wet sounds of Geralt’s cock sliding in and out of Jaskier and Jaskier slurping obscenely as he drooled around Geralt’s fingers. High pitched whines were still loud in the small room but they were around the same volume as Geralt’s heavy breathing so Geralt didn’t think they would be a problem. 

“Being very good for me, little lark,” Geralt groaned into Jaskier’s ear, feeling the man shudder under him. “Let’s see how long I can keep you quiet for.”

-

5

Geralt loved how Jaskier smelt when they wintered at Kaer Morhen; his familiar lavender and evergreen scent tinted with the smokiness of Geralt’s school and a soft flowery smell that meant Jaskier was content and feeling safe. It was a warm and heady mix that went straight to Geralt’s head and usually had him waking with his nose buried in Jaskier’s skin and purring as he curled around his bard. His happiness was obvious to Jaskier but also painfully clear to his brothers and mentor - and while Vesemir would simply smile and roll his eyes, Eskel and Lambert has none of his restraint. The teasing over breakfast when Jaskier wore Geralt’s shirts was easy for the Witcher to ignore, so focused on Jaskier in his clothes. The gagging when they curled up together in the library was harder but with Jaskier in his lap sticking his tongue out at his brothers, it was well worth it. When training, Geralt would admit the verbal sparring involving Jaskier that came with one-on-one matches had thrown him off at first, but he knew his brothers weren’t being mean and could tell they were happy and a bit smug over the development of his and Jaskier’s relationship. They liked Jaskier but they liked annoying their brother more.

Still, he didn’t really want to give them any more ammunition than they already had. Not that he was going to act any differently, he was not ashamed of loving Jaskier or being loved by him. He would still let Jaskier bath him in the hot springs and braid his hair, would still lay in Jaskier’s lap while Jaskier read, would still hold his hand while they walked in the snow. 

_”There is a secret that only I know,  
And it keeps me steady when the hard winds blow,  
For like his eyes oh my heart does glow,  
Knowing only to me his softness he’ll show.”_

The slow soft music drifted down the hall to the front gate where the Witcher’s were pulling in the spoils from their hunt. The three of them froze and then, in unison, Eskel and Lambert turned to Geralt, both grinning. 

_“I hold tight to his love so safe in my heart,  
And use it to quell my hunger for him when we part.”_

Lambert opened his mouth but Geralt shoved the deer he had been carrying into his arms, forcing an ‘oof!’ from his brother.

“Fuck,” Geralt said, his feet moving him away from the laughing eyes of his brothers and towards his mouthy bard in the reading room. “I’ll be back!”

“Run to your love, White Wolf!” Eskel called after him, cackling.

_“He cradles me gently and he makes my heart soar,  
Every scar and every bruise he knows I’ll adore,  
He’ll hide his passion behind his thrust upon mask of war,  
Though his heart pulls to mine like the sea to the shore-_ Geralt! You’re back- hmmff!?”

-

\+ 1

The argument had been stupid, Geralt knew this as soon as he had stormed from the inn, even though he knew Jaskier hated it when he left in the middle of a disagreement. The last few hunts had been busts and Geralt hadn’t been able to sleep for several nights in a row; so when Jaskier had wrinkled his nose at the inns bedding and complained about the state of the room they had been given, Geralt had immediately latched on to the fight. Jaskier was just as stubborn as Geralt himself so it had easy devolved into them both raising their voices and barely listening to each other as they argued. Eventually Geralt had told Jaskier he needed some fucking space for once and walked out, ignoring the bard as he called for Geralt to not be so childish.

Out in the fresh air of the town, Geralt immediately felt a tight pull of guilt in his stomach. Jaskier hadn’t been able to sleep much either, staying up late to try and sing and soothe Geralt to sleep and getting up early so they could keep moving. And it wasn’t the bards fault the hunts kept falling though. Even the amount of socialising that they had to do wasn’t really Jaskier’s fault, he was stopping wherever possible to make them more coin, after all. 

Tired, upset and now guilty, Geralt wanted nothing more than to walk back to Jaskier and ask forgiveness, curl up into the bards arms and try to sleep while Jaskier forgave him. But still angry, he knew it was a bad idea to go in till he (and Jaskier, who would be pissed as all hell) had time to calm down. So instead he walked to the stables and spent hours brushing Roach down, feeling himself calm with each long stroke of the brush. Her tail and mane were satisfying to detangle and picking out her shoes kept his mind occupied well enough. 

The sun was setting by the time Geralt walked back to the inn, exhausted and missing Jaskier. When he walked in to the tavern he almost missed Jaskier sat on the stage, strumming his lute softly but not singing, his eyes downcast. The normal happy scent was tainted by sadness and self-loathing, leaving a stale sour note in the back of Geralt’s throat. Sighing, Geralt watched the man for a moment, brightly coloured but curled in on himself in misery, clearly deep in thought as he played a soft tube mindlessly. A barmaid walked past and Geralt requested a large hot bath to their room. Then he made his way to Jaskier, pulling a coin from his pocket and flicking it so it landed next to the bard.

“Ah, sorry, I’m not- Geralt.” The relief in Jaskier’s voice was obvious. “There you are.”

Geralt dropped another coin to Jaskier’s side who frowned.

“What are you-“

“Will you sing?” Geralt swallowed as Jaskier raised his eyebrows. “I’d like to hear you play.”

There was a moment of hesitation, confusion. Geralt pulled a chair out so he could sit at the front table. 

“Geralt...”

“Please?” 

A few early patrons of the bar were watching them curiously, so Jaskier sighed. “What do you want to hear?”

“Something that makes you happy. Something you like to play. Play quiet, just for me to hear your heartbeat along to it or loud for everyone to get chills from your voice.”

For a long moment, Jaskier held Geralt’s gaze, tilting his head as he studied his Witcher carefully. A small smile was bestowed. “Alright.”

And he played.

-


End file.
